"I bet they made a wrong turn on their way to a lawn bowling tournament," I said.

My flying school partner and I were watching a flesh-coloured Buick pull into our parking lot. An older couple climbed out. The man was medium-sized and slightly bent with age. The woman could have been anybody's elderly aunt.

“They look like they’re shopping for a retirement home, not flying lessons,” I said to Henry.

I had a good reason to be skeptical. It was the afternoon of the opening day for our flying school with not a customer in sight.

"You never know," Henry answered slowly and calmly.

"So I'll handle this?" I asked.

"That's right. You do the talking, Mister Promoter. I'll listen and learn."

The oldsters opened the door. I flashed them a nervous smile and blurted out what was on my mind.

"Hello there. Are you lost?"

I blame my stupid greeting on the pressure-packed previous months of setting up the flying school. It produced dead silence. Henry filled it.

"Hi. I'm Henry Rains. Welcome to The Flying Circus."

They answered at the same time.

"I'm Glenn Hathaway."

"I'm Margaret Hathaway."

"Pleased to meet you," Henry said shaking their hands. "This is my partner," he said motioning in my direction.

There was another silence while the couple looked around our mostly bare office.

"Don't mind the lack of decorating," I said, lamely. "We'll have some pictures up here in no time."

"Can I sell you folks some flying lessons?" Henry asked.

"We learned to fly at the flying club next door," Glenn Hathaway replied. "We heard about this new operation so we came to see it."

"Tire kickers," I thought to myself.

"We have a number of aircraft for sale," Henry offered calmly.

I didn't know what he was talking about. We had two beat-up leased Cherokee 140s. We wanted a new airplane but we knew from the Piper brochures that we couldn't afford even the wheels for one. Anyway, it didn't matter what Henry said. These senior citizens would not be in the market for an airplane.

"Actually we are interested in our own aircraft," Glenn Hathaway said.

Henry reached for the Piper brochures.

"What type of airplane did you have in mind?" he asked.

"Something for instrument flying," Mrs. Hathaway said. "We want to get our IFR Ratings.”

My jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Have a seat," Henry said, motioning to one of the briefing tables. "Maybe I can talk my partner into making coffee."

Illustration by Francois Bougie

I closed my mouth and did my bidding. Henry showed them the Piper Aircraft brochures. I still couldn't believe they were legitimate airplane customers. I used two scoops of coffee and five cups of water. I didn't want to waste good coffee on these unlikely prospects.

He showed them the instrument panel options and the interior brochure. "A variety of colors are available," he said, "in a woven fabric or a synthetic crushed velour."

"Does it come with an autopilot?" Mrs. Hathaway asked with a smile. "I like to fly, but Glenny loves the cruise control in his car."

"Yes," Henry replied, "an autopilot is standard with the dual IFR radio package."

They both looked through the brochures.

"I'll call the Piper distributor and ask about availability and prices," Henry said. "While I'm doing that, my partner can show you around outside." He gave me a nod.

I frowned. I thought a tour outside was a bad idea. There were things unfinished. The hangar stood as a naked shell. There was gravel where there should have been asphalt and mud in place of landscaping.

"Watch your step," I said as I led the Hathaways out of the office and onto the gravel path. "We haven't had time to plant grass or lay the sidewalk," I said, "but the hangar is up. We hope to finish it soon."

It was the first of May. The sky was clear and the weather was warming up to the promise of a summer soon to come.

We walked to the front of the hangar. Our two leased Cherokee 140s looked forlorn parked in the middle of the big open space.

"When we get time, we're going to have lights installed and a door," I shrugged.

Henry and I had worked on the things that hadn't cost money but I felt stupid making excuses for the things we couldn't afford. I had the blisters to prove that we had raked and rolled the gravel and the dirt around the buildings ourselves. We had scrubbed the two old Cherokees inside and out but the hangar and property still had that "under construction" look.

Glenn and Mrs. Hathaway walked over to the airplanes and peaked through the cockpit windows of each one. The only other thing I could think to show them was our fuel installation. It had been Henry's idea to find a couple of used furnace oil tanks and pump our own aviation fuel by hand. We had painted the two tanks with a roller and a brush. They stood in the mud beside the gravel taxiway as a monument to our budget operation.

"What do you charge for hangar space for an Archer?" Glenn Hathaway asked.

Henry and I hadn't set hangar rates.

"I don't know," I said, "but we can figure it out for you."

We went back inside the office where Henry offered the Hathaways a coffee.

"Cream and two sugar," Glenn said.

"Just black," Mrs. Hathaway said at the same time.

When the coffee was poured, Henry said that he had spoken to the Piper distributor. "They don't have an Archer in stock. It would have to be specially ordered."

They spoke in unison. "We wanted to do that anyway," Glenn said. "We'd like to order our own paint colors and interior."

"We want to visit the factory while our airplane is being built," Mrs. Hathaway said.

"Fine," Henry replied. "I priced an Archer with the dual radios and the executive option package. Delivery would be three months following a deposit of $5,000."

"How about insurance?" Glenn asked.

Henry quoted him what I recognized to be the cost of the insurance on our two old Cherokees together. "That's a ballpark figure," he said. "I can get a quote from our own insurance agent."

"What would it cost to park it in your hangar?" Glenn asked.

"One hundred and fifty dollars per month," Henry said without hesitation.

"What about maintaining an Archer?"

"It will come with a two-year warranty. There will be the labor costs on an inspection every 100 hours of flying or one year, whichever comes first. We have an arrangement with a maintenance base in Derry. A mechanic will come here if necessary."

"Well, we appreciate the information," Glenn said. "Margaret and I will talk it over and let you know."

"Thank you for coming," I said. I knew we’d never see them again.

"Since you're here," Henry interjected, "my partner and I are available to fly your first instrument lesson on our airplanes this afternoon."

The Hathaways exchanged surprised looks.

"It involves a half-hour ground briefing and a one-hour flight," Henry continued. "We have two airplanes and two experienced instructors. You'd be finished by supper time."

Glenn gave him a hard look, "Let me get this straight. You're offering Margaret and me lessons right now?"

"That's correct," Henry replied. "And the first five instrument flying lessons are the same as the five hours of instruments for the night flying rating. You'll be working on both ratings at once. We could also count it as a checkout on our aircraft. You could rent them while deciding on your purchase."

"I've never been offered a flying lesson that I didn't have to book weeks in advance," Glenn said.

"Well," Henry said with a smile, "you can book ahead if you prefer but my partner and I are ready to work. We'd rather take you now."

"I'd like to go flying now," Mrs. Hathaway said.

"Fine," Henry replied and nodded to me. "I'll get the airplanes ready and you do the ground briefing."

"Okay," I replied. I had obviously hooked up with the right partner.

"Bring your coffee over here, folks," I said with new-found enthusiasm, "and I'll show you what we're going to do today."